


baguette magique

by magicsoul (cherishiskisa)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: (no penetration tho just Fun and Vibes and Silliness!), Crushes, Dry Humping, Friendship is Magic, Humor, Instructive sex, M/M, Open Relationships, Sex Toys, Somnophilia, Threesome - M/M/M, Wet & Messy, read author's note for mild warning!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/magicsoul
Summary: Three nights alone with Mingi. How bad could it be?
Relationships: Choi San/Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi, Choi San/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi, implied/future woosan
Comments: 42
Kudos: 195





	baguette magique

**Author's Note:**

> a/n as of november 2020: making this un-anon just for fun and mischief! heed the warnings please! i kept this on anon because of how DIRTY it is but now ... im past the point of caring :/
> 
> brief warning that the somnophilia is the faintest shade of dubious at the very beginning, but consent is very rapidly established and all parties are willing and interested and enthusiastic the whole time. hehehe this idea quite literally came to me in a fever dream so i hold myself not ONE bit accountable for the nonsense herein!!!!!!
> 
> "baguette magique" is french for "magic wand" . ENJOY !!!

In retrospect, it makes a lot of sense that everything got wacky in France. It’s not like the combination of the weirdest people San has ever known and the country that gave the world _escargot_ could ever be anything but balls-to-the-wall bizarre. And of course it was all Mingi’s fault, because honestly, other than most major world wars, what _isn’t_ Mingi’s fault? The kid attracts trouble like a magnet, if magnets were six foot one himbos. But it had all started out well enough, this whole trip to Europe. A great way to spend a summer with your seven closest friends before sophomore year of college. The program of locations was well-chosen, mostly a group effort but with all the heavy lifting done by Seonghwa, and so far, they’ve already terrorized Great Britain, Sweden, the Netherlands (God, San loved Amsterdam, for the obvious reason but also— well, no, that’s it, just for the weed), and Germany, and now they’re in France. For all of Yunho’s concerns about how chaotic this trip might be, it’s honestly been totally fine. Sure, they almost lost Jongho in Stockholm and Wooyoung keeps threatening to throw Yeosang out of hostel windows, but hey, it’s a great time. San is chilling. He’s been having great luck with scoring single rooms in the dingy little European boardinghouses they’ve been crashing in, and he’s eating his fill of bread and fresh fruit and flirting outrageously with every hot waiter and waitress they meet. France is gonna be great. Italy’s next, which’ll probably be even better. But of course as soon as he starts getting comfortable, things start getting a little silly.

First, Mingi and Hongjoong get together. Which is totally fine, Mingi’s been carrying a torch for Hongjoong since literally the first week he got to college, practically burning his fingers on it with how intensely he was brandishing the flame. San isn’t totally sure what went down, but he thinks it might have something to do with how they shared a room for the first leg of the trip, because all of a sudden they started showing up to communal breakfasts pink-cheeked and holding hands and giggling. Hongjoong hand-feeds Mingi gummy bears and nobody likes to look at that, it’s gross. It does make San a little itchy, but only because he hasn’t gotten laid for, like, a month? Not since the trip started, unfortunately. And Wooyoung is still pretending they never hooked up at that St. Patrick’s Day party, but whatever. The Mingi-Hongjoong PDA is off the charts; Hongjoong, despite being about three feet tall, is always pulling Bimbo Bambi into his lap and Mingi is always playing with Hongjoong’s hair on trains and there’s just so much coffee foam-related nonsense. Sure, San ribs Mingi about it plenty, and Mingi always goes neon orange and laughs his horrible high-pitched laugh and gets so squirmy that Yeosang, on his other side, quietly complains, but it doesn’t mean San wants _details._ However, it seems like he might not have a choice, because as soon as they cross into France, Hongjoong looks away from Mingi’s eyes and announces, “Well, I’ll see you boys later!”

“What?” says San, who honestly has not been paying attention to much of anything for the past three days — he and Yunho have been watching _Riverdale,_ and that shit is enchanting in the worst kind of way. “Where are you going?”

“Do you not have ears?” Wooyoung snaps. “He’s going to [unintelligible French word] to see his cousins.”

“Oh, right,” San says. He had no idea Hongjoong had cousins in France, but it makes sense; he must have been born with that beret on his head after all. “Have fun in— Beuh— boo—”

“Burgundy?” Hongjoong provides with that smirky, slinky little smile.

“Wooyoung said Burr-goyn!” San defends.

“ _We_ call it Burgundy, but the French call it Bourgogne,” Hongjoong explains, smile not unsmirkifying one bit. “Anyway, my folks live out in Dijon—”

“Like the—”

“Mustard, yes,” Hongjoong continues, “but we’re gonna bounce to Montpelier, then I’ll meet you guys in Nice.”

“Real quick, it’s pronounced ‘nice,’” Seonghwa informs him very seriously.

“It is not,” Hongjoong says.

“Anyway, this is great, we get to save money on one hostel room,” Seonghwa says as though he hadn’t just suggested that _Nice_ was pronounced _nice._ “Mingi, are you good to room with…?”

“Huh?” Mingi says, full huge-eyed, long-lashed, pouty-lipped confusion. “Oh— I have to choose?”

“Of course you can pick your own roommate, what am I, a tyrant?” Seonghwa says with an easy laugh, then quickly adds, “Don’t answer that,” before anyone can say anything.

Mingi fidgets and looks to Hongjoong, who just shrugs, his hand, the left one, the one with the painted nail, draped over Mingi’s broad shoulder. “Your call, baby,” he hums.

San can tell it’s a lot of pressure on Mingi; everyone’s looking at him and waiting for him to make his decision and it’s obviously stressing him out, but San honestly wouldn’t mind the company, Mingi’s great for getting smashed with and playing stupid card games neither of them knows the rules to and staying up too late watching cartoon reruns and experimenting with facemasks and raiding minifridges for every bit of sugar they can find. He’s normally in a single room, anyway, this just makes sense. “I’ll do it,” he says.

“Really?” Mingi says, eyes bigger than ever. “You deserve the Nobel Peace Prize.”

“You should have said so before we left Stockholm, you could have made my case at the Royal Swedish Academy,” San says wistfully.

But Mingi is no longer paying attention: he has pulled Hongjoong aside for a mumble-whispered conversation, both of them wrapped all around each other, presumably saying their last goodbyes. How long did Hongjoong say he was going to be gone for? Four days, today included? It’s not like Mingi will _die_ without him. But if he does, San has no qualms about tossing his body into the river. The conversation looks to be coming to a close, and Hongjoong looks away from Mingi and right at San, as mischievous as ever.

“Take good care of my angel,” he instructs, then actually comes over to grip him by the shoulders and give him a little shake.

“No,” San says, just for the bit, but Hongjoong starts giving him scary eyes (even as Mingi, behind his back, puts up little devil horns on either side of his own head) and San relents, “Fine, I will, whatever that means.”

“I know you will,” Hongjoong says, pats San on the cheek, and _winks_ at him. Gross! Then he goes back to Mingi and gives him a very big kiss, which is even grosser.

Three nights alone with Mingi. How bad could it be?

Pretty fucking bad, as it turns out, or starts to turn out pretty much as soon as they’re alone together. Whoever booked the hostel seems to have, rather logically, just conserved Minjoong’s reservation, and now, as a result, there is only one bed.

“I’ll try not to kick you too much, I guess, but if you deserve it, no promises,” San says with distaste, staring at the bed. Is that even big enough to hold Mingi? The boy is a mountain, if mountains were loud as hell and wore tracksuits five times a week. But he doesn’t want to be mean and upset Mingi, because it’s honestly not that bad, they’ve all had to share beds before just for various reasons that San doesn’t feel the need to elaborate on, no he’s not getting defensive, and also because Mingi is clearly fragile today, so. He just claims a side of the bed and tosses his backpack down, then starts trying to turn on the TV to see what local channels they can pick up.

“Hey, San?” Mingi says, and San turns back to look at him, perfectly shaped eyebrows raising. Mingi’s eyes are a little red and teary from saying bye to Hongjoong at the train station, and he’s been fidgety all day (well, even more than usual, and if usually his fidgeting is enough to accidentally knock Yeosang over, today it’s enough to send Yunho tumbling, so San, not exactly the tallest of their friends, is apprehensive about his own chances), and finally whatever thread he’d been pulling on snaps and he says, “San, I— I have to tell you something.”

“Oh?” says San, giving up on the TV. “Shit, just do it, I’m getting nervous.”

“I, um,” Mingi starts, his cheeks slowly flooding with red. “I— um.”

“Wow,” San says. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Don’t be a dick!” Mingi sniffs and hits him with a pillow. “I, um, I get— I get really, like, really cu-uh-uddly in my… sleep, so— I just, I’m c— you know I’m clingy, so—”

“Yeah, Clingy Mingi, I think everyone on the planet knows,” San says, rolling his eyes. “Maybe aliens, too. Honestly, that was it? You had me thinking you were gonna say you and Hongjoong are joining a cult when we get back home.”

“I wish,” Mingi says, laughing nervously, which isn’t worrying at all. “No— no, San, listen, I’m a _really_ cuddly sleeper.”

“Jeez, I get it, baby wanna snuggle, it’s fine,” San huffs.

“But also,” Mingi says, and by this point it looks like talking is causing him pain, he’s so pink and he can’t sit still or look San in the eyes, “I also— fuck, this is so… this is so embarrassing.”

“Just say it,” San says, trying to be encouraging but probably coming off as very harsh, because Mingi blushes impossibly deeper, covering his face with his massive hands and breathing noisily against his palms.

“I… get, um, m— mor…ning… wood… really bad, too,” Mingi mumbles, “and I’m just— I’m just, like, warning you in advance, so you— so it doesn’t— scare you, or— gross you— out, I’m just—”

“Mingi, _I also get morning wood,_ ” San explains with eminently reasonable patience. “Isn’t that, like, the whole thing about being a man who dates men? You understand the little awkward problems we all have?” He suddenly realizes how that sounds and quickly adds, “Not that _we’re_ dating, obviously we’re not dating, you’re dating— or whatever— Hongjoong, but like, I just mean, you know, even just being _friends_ with— you know what, forget it.”

But as demotivational as his little monologue was, it seems to have helped in some way. Mingi finally takes his hands down from his face and peers at San. “I’m just sorry in advance,” he says. “And for the record, Hongjoong and I haven’t talked about labels yet.”

“Really? Hongjoong _loves_ labels,” San says, pointing to his backpack, which has a sticker on it from Hongjoong’s label-maker-machine phase that says ‘this machine kills rodents,’ for some reason.

“We’re just seeing how it goes for now,” Mingi says, and now instead of blushing he’s kind of glowing, and San looks away, pulling a face.

“Are we clubbing or what?” he says. “If you want me to help you do your hair, we have to start getting ready right now.”

“Fuck yeah!” Mingi says and jumps up, all his woes forgotten. San already has his first-night-in-Paris clubbing outfit picked out, but Mingi takes longer to get dressed, locking himself in the bathroom to change into some kind of mesh shirt and ripped jeans and smear glittery eyeshadow all over his eyelids and, accidentally, most of his face. Then San gels some of his hair to get it out of his face, compliments his makeup and makes Mingi go scarlet underneath the blue-gold glitter, and declares him perfect after clipping his fake earrings on for him.

They’re going out with Yunho and Seonghwa, because Jongho went to a Michelin-starred restaurant instead and Yeosang and Wooyoung are competing to find the best boba in Paris, but this is a good group, never mind the weird semi-tension between the two Arieses. Mingi can’t stop blushing and preening, pleased with how he looks, and San honestly kind of gets it, because he keeps staring at himself in windows and any and all reflective surfaces, too, his jeans sinfully tight, his shirt deliciously low-cut — he looks hot, not that he ever _doesn’t_. They get to Le Marais (on Hongjoong’s recommendation, the gay part of town) around ten, stumble into the first gay club they can find, then go a little nuts.

What’s there to say about it? San dances with about seven million hot French guys, gets bought about fifty million drinks, and while Yunho and Seonghwa are having a spirited discussion about ethics by the bar, San spots Mingi moping with a daiquiri at the other end of the bar and sighs. He did promise Hongjoong he’d take care of him, didn’t he? And he can’t just let Mingi get eaten up by the hungry Parisian gays starting to take notice of tall, dark, and stupid all by his lonesome. So San makes his way over to him, steals Mingi’s drink, drains it for him against his protestations, then grabs him by his big mitts, tugging intently. “Dance with me,” he shouts over the music.

“Okay!” Mingi says, suddenly so alight and happy as if he hadn’t just been seconds away from whining out loud about how lonely he was without Hongjoong, and he stumbles along with San into the middle of the sweaty dance floor. Mingi does look really good, he did great with his makeup and San did great with his hair, and the dim neon lights of the club only accentuate it. San presses up against him, back to his chest, and they dance outrageously dirty, laughing in each other’s ears all the while as they grind together, _as friends._ Mingi is off-limits, and even if he weren’t, San doesn’t date his friends. But there’s no harm in looking, because those torn jeans are doing incredible wonders for those incredible thighs, and Mingi’s way more relaxed with a couple drinks in his system and loud Ariana Grande blasting through the speakers, and by the time they’re leaving, he’s very thoroughly tipsy, a noisy mess, his arms flung around San’s shoulders as San tries to drag him out onto the street. He has a lipstick print on his cheek — not from San — and San makes a frowny face and taps the mark with his finger, making Mingi laugh raucously and shrug his hand aside, tickled.

“Won’t Hongjoong be bothered?” San reminds.

“He’s not like that,” Mingi says, only slurring a little bit; he’s probably playing it up so San will baby him more. “He says— he says kisses are good, it’s just a way of saying hi to another human being, and we’re in France, you know, everyone kisses each other all the time.”

“Uh huh,” San says, amused as he always is by Mingi’s drunk philosophy. “So you’re gonna start kissing everyone hello now?”

“Maybe,” Mingi says with a bold shrug and leans even more of his weight on San, who laughs and tries to shove him away, but it doesn’t work, and they both somehow manage to lurch their way down into the metro and onto a train. There, they snag seats side by side, and Mingi dozes with his head lolling on San’s shoulder (even though he complains about how bony it is), and San’s hand ends up on Mingi’s leg, his fingertips catching on the thin strings in the rips cutting across the denim. The kind of gesture he wouldn’t think twice about before, but now that Mingi and Hongjoong are together-but-not-putting-labels-on-it, he does think twice about it, and decides he doesn’t really care. It’s friendly; they’re friends. No big deal.

Back at the hostel, they do one last shot together, then wash their makeup off and change into PJs. San, like a normal person, sleeps in boxers and a white v-neck tee worn soft by years of use, but Mingi, like a wild thot, sleeps in the exact same things, boxers and a t-shirt, but inexplicably teeny-tiny. Even his sleep shirt is tight, which can’t be very comfortable. All he does when San raises his eyebrows judgmentally at him is shrug and go pink and say, “I overheat!”

They crawl into bed. It’s only awkward for about a second, but then Mingi sidles up to him and makes puppy eyes and says, “I’m coooooold,” and San grumbles and tries to smother him to death with a pillow but puts his arms and legs around him anyway, turning on the TV with the remote in his other hand. Neither of them speaks a lick of French or even understands it, but they find a hilariously bad dub of Harry Potter on some channel near the end of the list, and that’s enough to keep them entertained, noisily mocking the names and random words that stick out to them, _baguette magique_ and _Poufsouffle_ and _le Magicobus,_ not even stopping when Jongho knocks on their shared wall to tell them to shut the fuck up; in fact, they get even noisier as a result _._ But finally, Mingi starts drifting off, his heavy eyelids getting heavier, and San shifts his head off his shoulder, untangles from him just a little bit, and clicks off the light by the bed.

When he starts scooting away so he can get his own pillow and go to sleep, Mingi, practically asleep already, makes a sad, downright heartbroken little noise, and San huffs. “Are you serious?”

Mingi doesn’t answer, just grabs very sleepily for San’s shirt, and San pinches the skin of Mingi’s inner wrist meanly to see if that’ll do anything, but all Mingi does is whine very quietly and pull at him more insistently. Ugh, fuck. Fine. San lies down and scoots closer again, letting Mingi use him as a body pillow, and— well, it could be worse. Mingi is warm, he’s nice and soft, and even his snuffling breath on San’s shoulder isn’t unpleasant. It’s just for tonight, San figures. He’s lonely without Hongjoong, and San is his friend, would be his best friend if it weren’t for Yunho, and this is kind of what friends are for. Tomorrow San won’t let him do this, but for tonight, it’s fine.

When San wakes up, all he feels is _good._ Normally after a night out, he wakes up and he feels like shit, head pounding and mouth crusty and limbs sore, but before he even opens his eyes he feels fucking amazing, tingly all over like he just had a really good stretch. It always feels good to wake up turned on, sometimes even better than getting turned on normally, and San exhales softly, his hips rolling against whatever’s pushing so deliciously against his cock, then abruptly realizes _it’s Mingi_ and stops, suddenly completely awake.

Mingi— Mingi— fuck. Mingi had warned him that he 1. was very cuddly in his sleep and 2. got morning wood “really bad,” but somehow, San hadn’t predicted _this:_ Mingi pressed against him inextricably, their thighs locked together, Mingi’s soft, pliant body so, so close, and the way he’s breathing, moaning, as he ruts his clothed dick into San’s hip.

“Mingi,” San whispers urgently. “Mingi, are you asleep?”

Mingi doesn’t answer except in another one of those impossibly soft, bleary moans, and _wow,_ his dick is _huge,_ thick and heavy, hot and urgent against San’s hip and thigh. San’s body reacts on its own, pushing closer to Mingi so they can grind, but San tries to make his brain work again, because this is Mingi, and they’re friends, and Mingi has Hongjoong, and this is definitely kind of fucked up, especially if Mingi isn’t even conscious. Shit, he probably thinks San is Hongjoong, so even though it would be so easy to roll his body again and drag their cocks together, give into that incredibly powerful urge to just see where this thing goes, San tries again to see what the fuck is up: “Mingi— wake up, Mingi, I’m not Hongjoong, I’m—”

“San,” Mingi moans, his face by now in San’s neck.

Oh. _Oh,_ okay, cool. San reacts instinctively, a shudder going through his body and a soft groan breaking free from him, too, as he squirms his hips closer to rock against Mingi’s thigh. Mingi is panting into his neck and San shivers, threading his fingers into Mingi’s hair — still a little crunchy from yesterday’s gel — and tugging. “Mingi, you _sure_ you’re awake?” he manages, strained.

Mingi makes an incoherent noise, altogether too airy and gentle for how big of a boy he is, San is going to be haunted by the size of that bulge for the rest of his days, and his lips purse sleepily against San’s neck for a moment before he says, in a somewhat different voice than before, “…San?”

“So _now_ you’re awake,” San says, squirming slightly. “You— um—”

Mingi jerks in terror and tries to pull away, but their thighs are too entangled, he can’t get far enough except to look at San. The poor thing is still barely free from sleep, his eyes keep threatening to close, but under those heavy lashes they look panicked, his drowsy-puffy lips trembling for just a moment. “San,” he tries again, slurring but now from sleepiness, “I’m _so_ sorry—”

“It’s fine,” San dismisses quickly. “It’s— hah—” In the process of trying to pull away, all Mingi had done was grind one of those legendary thighs right up on San’s dick again, and he’s feeling sleepy and stupid and Mingi, evidently, wants him, and— frankly, it’s none of San’s business what kind of relationship Mingi has with Hongjoong, if this is how Mingi acts with him. “It’s fine,” he repeats, cheeks red.

Mingi doesn’t understand, looking so helpless and rumpled and _Jesus_ he’s still _so_ hard against San’s legs, and San makes a shushing noise, the hand that had been tugging his hair transitioning to petting instead. Mingi’s dick twitches and Mingi kind of looks like he wants to die, so San tries to make it simple, use easy words that he’ll understand: “If you want this,” he says, slowly, “I want this.”

“Oh,” Mingi says, struggling to focus. “You— you do?”

San nods, and Mingi is still hesitating, still confused, even though San can practically feel his heartbeat throbbing in his cock, that’s how hot and hard he is. San experimentally shifts his leg just so his hip will be pressed more tightly to Mingi’s cock and Mingi’s cherry-red lips — get this kid some Chapstick, jeez — fall open on a breathy moan, and San grins, using his hand on the back of Mingi’s head to guide his face back down into his neck. “C’mere,” he murmurs. “I gotcha.”

“Thank you,” Mingi mumbles. “Th— fu-uck, that’s—”

“I know,” San says, his breath raspy in his throat. “Feels good.”

They’re really just rubbing together lazily, Mingi is too clumsy to do anything else, and San wants to get a hand on him and feel out _just_ how big and sensitive he is, but he’s getting a pretty full picture just like this, with Mingi’s cock grinding uncoordinated into his hip and lower stomach while San rides on Mingi’s thigh. Mingi’s gasps in San’s neck are so soft and hushed, so illogically sweet, even the way he’s trying to press closer to him feels sweet. San has to help move one of Mingi’s arms over him so they can be nearly hugging through all this as well, and Mingi nuzzles his neck gratefully, his fingers barely pushing into the small of San’s back.

It’s a little overwhelming. Mingi’s not even doing that much, but San still feels overwhelmed. Of course he thinks Mingi is cute, of course he thinks Mingi is hot; those are just objective facts. But he never thought they’d ever get _here,_ Mingi’s big dick leaking wet precome through his boxers and making San get all shivery when Mingi ends up grinding on bare skin, and yeah, when they cuddle they get _real_ cuddly, but like this? Mingi squirming for him, pliant and so turned on he can’t even handle it, barely even moving himself anymore, letting San do all the work to get them both off? Never happened before, obviously, never even seemed within the realm of possibility. San does a neat little move that involves flexing his leg just to tense the lines of his body slightly, diminishing the space between Mingi’s cock and San’s body and the bed, and Mingi’s moan is downright kittenish, a tiny needy mewl for more.

So San gives him more, pushing Mingi onto his back so San can be on top of him. It’s easier to get leverage this way, it’s a better angle for both of them, and San stares at Mingi’s red, red mouth and considers kissing him, but that feels like too much, so he holds back, settles for kissing his neck instead, which makes Mingi’s moans get higher and needier, his cock straining in the spaces between them as San thrusts down. San is content to suck on his neck while Mingi’s thighs flex and push, while the tingly feeling that’s been running through San’s body increases and increases, like someone turning the volume up on TV static, until Mingi makes a shaky, relieved noise, breaths panting wetly against the side of San’s head, and cums in his boxers, his whole body, so slack until this point, tightening for a moment, then going right back to boneless in another second.

San can’t help it, he’s too curious. He slips a hand down between their bodies and puts his palm on Mingi’s dick, pulsing faintly as he finishes up his orgasm, and Mingi’s thighs twitch as San slowly rolls his fingers over the thick length of him, rubs experimentally at the head, the growing dampness spreading through the fabric. Mingi shudders out a sigh, mumbles, “San,” sounding so breathless and fucked-out, and San squeezes his legs around Mingi’s thigh, rocks down against him one more time, and hisses out an urgent breath as he cums, too.

What the hell just happened? Mingi’s arms come up to loosely encircle San’s body, and San flops down by his side, latched onto him and hoisting him closer so they can just snuggle, never mind the cum. San thinks maybe they should talk about this, but it’s hard to think right now, he’s being pulled rapidly back down into sleep, and Mingi is asleep again already, breathing deep and even with his head nestled into San’s shoulder.

The next time San wakes up, nobody is hard, but they are both incredibly sweaty; Mingi wasn’t kidding about how he overheats. San had only been pulled out of sleep by the obnoxious ringing of his phone, and he smacks a hand at it to answer the call. “Hullo,” he mumbles.

“Where the fuck are you?” says Wooyoung, sounding very irritated indeed. “Everybody’s downstairs, we’re supposed to be at the Louvre in fifty minutes, what the fuck?”

“Oh, fuck,” San groans and hangs up on him. “Mingi, we gotta go.”

Mingi doesn’t stir. He’s fever-hot and clinging to San like his life depends on it, and when San pushes at his shoulder, he barely reacts except for a grumpy noise. The noise makes San abruptly remember what happened the first time they woke up and flush bright red, and, emboldened by his embarrassment, he shoves his fingers into Mingi’s ribs to make him regain full consciousness. “Mingi, _up,_ come on, we already missed breakfast,” he complains.

“Go ‘way,” Mingi mumbles.

“No!” San insists, poking him harder. “God, how are you so sweaty— let go of me, I’ll leave you here if I have to—”

“Nooooo,” Mingi whines, because evidently the threat of solitude is enough to make him wake up. “I’m awake, I’m awake, shhh.”

San glares at him, but Mingi’s eyes aren’t even open so he can’t even tell. But it’s not like San can glare long, anyway, not with Mingi’s hair all rumpled and the faintest of red marks on his neck from where San was kissing on it earlier and the way he’s struggling to open his eyes. He’s stupid cute. His elbows are too wobbly for him to be able to push himself upright, so San grabs him around the shoulders and waist to lift him up, and Mingi sighs drowsily, leaning against him with his full body weight. When San risks a glance downwards, he sees that Mingi’s shirt had ridden up at some point, and there’s the faintest sheen of dried cum near the edge of his boxers waistband. San swallows, cheeks reddening further as he quickly looks away, and keeps hauling Mingi up and out until they’re both standing by the bed.

Are they seriously not going to talk about it? They don’t have time right now, at any rate. San pulls on the first perfectly pre-planned outfit he can find, but Mingi’s just stumbling around, yanking his sweatpants on backwards at first and only giving San a dazed, sheepish smile when San laughs at him and makes him turn them around. No time for makeup, either, so San puts on a baseball hat and calls it a day, then drags Mingi out of the room, down the stairs, and into the lobby, where sure enough, the rest of their friends are all waiting for them. Somehow San hadn’t noticed, in all the hustle and bustle of getting out the door, that he’d grabbed Mingi by the hand to yank him out of their room, but he notices now, right before anyone other than Jongho can see them, and jerks his hand away, blushing hotly.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Wooyoung says, and San rolls his eyes but does the requisite paw motion at him, and Mingi shuffles over to stand with Yunho, who smiles so kindly, puts his arm around his shoulders and rubs at his side as Mingi yawns. Fine, San thinks, two can play at that game, and meanders over to Seonghwa, who’s all stressed about them missing their Louvre entry time, but he starts to relax a little after San compliments his boots.

It’s weird, hanging out with everyone without Hongjoong there. Mingi clearly isn’t the only one feeling the absence, although he’s certainly feeling it the hardest; at the Louvre, he just stands in front of some sappy romantic painting and _sighs,_ and San thinks he’s being ridiculous so he and Yeosang sneak away to Juul in the Louvre bathroom. But Hongjoong’s spirit is kind of imbuing everything else they’re doing, and while San still thinks it’s dumb for everybody to be acting like he _died_ when they all FaceTimed him and his laughing cousins from the metro earlier, he can’t deny that it’s odd to not have him around, his high-pitched giggle and his brightly patterned coats always in everyone’s peripheral vision and the way he and Mingi are all wrapped up in each other all the time.

San can’t help but feel a stab of guilt when he thinks of him. No labels, he knows, but that doesn’t mean Mingi has a hall pass to get off with the first friend who’ll let him rub that gorgeous dick all over— San is getting distracted, stop that. Point is, he doesn’t know if he’s a homewrecker, and that’s not the kind of position he wants to be in, so the next time they’re all on the metro, he grabs Mingi by the shirt and tugs until he gets his attention, then yanks until Mingi stumbles back to stand with him, out of earshot of the rest.

“What’s good, you okay?” Mingi asks, blinking dozily down at him.

“We need to talk,” San says, his voice quiet, arms crossing tensely. “Because I’m not gonna pretend it didn’t happen, so…”

Mingi is looking at him _very_ confusedly, and San groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Please don’t fucking tell me you don’t remember.”

“No, I remember,” Mingi says, the tips of his ears starting to get pink. “I just… um… yeah.”

“Um, yeah, what?” San huffs. “Look, I’m not mad at you, okay? I wanted it, too, but we still need to, like, talk about—”

“You’re not?” Mingi cuts in, surprised, and evidently always half a sentence behind. “Oh. I thought you were.”

God, he’s so clueless, it’s _painful._ No wonder Hongjoong had needed to instruct San to take care of him; Mingi would definitely die if released into the wild to fend for himself. “No, I’m not mad at you,” San clarifies. “It’s a fucking weird situation, but I’m not mad. I mean… Jesus, you weren’t kidding when you said you got morning wood really bad.”

Mingi looks absolutely miserable. “San, I’m so sorry,” he starts. “That doesn’t usually— I’m not usually— I was just—”

San cuts him off to keep him from floundering. “You knew it was me, though, right? The whole time. You never thought I was Hongjoong.”

“I—” Mingi’s mouth opens and closes like a puppet, and that flush in his ears has now spread to his cheeks. He’s getting shy, San can tell, and finally, after a minute of fidgeting, he admits, “Yeah, I— I knew it was you.”

San ignores the hot rush of validation he gets from that, ignores the instant sense memory of Mingi moaning his name into his neck before he’d even fully woken up. He braves on instead, because this is important, he needs to know. “Did you do all this on purpose? Ask to room with me, because you knew this would happen?”

“What? _No,_ ” Mingi insists, eyes huge and hands fluttering up to grab at San’s arms. “San, no, I wouldn’t do that. I had no idea that I would— I would do, um, what I ended up doing. I swear on my _life.”_

“Oh, my God, tone it down, Scorpio Mars,” San says, raising his eyebrows.

That makes Mingi pause. “Do you have my whole natal chart memorized…?”

“I have _everyone’s_ whole natal chart memorized,” San scoffs, offended by the underestimation.

“Um,” Mingi says, “okay, that’s scary, but anyway, no, I would never do that. I didn’t mean to, I _swear.”_

“Yeah, I got that,” San says, by now starting to get more than a little amused. It’s funny, seeing Mingi fall all over himself to explain something. He sees why Hongjoong likes teasing him so much, maybe. “Last question. Is it going to happen again?”

Mingi’s face falls, and he’s right back to fidgeting, his long knobby fingers pulling at the hem of his sweater. “I… probably,” he admits, soft and unsteady. “Now that it’s happened once, it’s like my body just— I’m sorry— I can get a different room, or we can buy a sleeping bag today, I don’t want to make you—”

“It’s fine,” San says for what feels like the billionth time. “I told you. If you want it, then I want it. It’s none of my business what you and Cap’n Jack are getting up to, so if you say it’s fine, then it’s fine.”

Mingi opens his mouth to start to say something, but the train judders to a halt and all their friends start pouring out of the doors, and Mingi and San both yelp and chase after them so they don’t get left behind. San said everything he wanted to say, anyway, and now he’ll have a little more warning when Mingi starts getting rowdy tomorrow morning.

The rest of the day is plenty fine. A big lunch at a big bistro, a river tour in a rickety little boat and Wooyoung and Mingi won’t stop screaming, and another gay club after dinner. San decides to avoid dancing with Mingi tonight, just to avoid getting their lines crossed, mainly his own, but Mingi’s having fun with Yunho, it doesn’t matter. Besides, just because Mingi understands whatever weird dynamic he has going on with Hongjoong and then with San doesn’t mean that their friends wouldn’t balk to see them dancing up on each other when they all think — or maybe even know — that Mingi and Hongjoong are together. So. San just dances with random hot French guys, makes out with a tasty piece of _cul_ by the bar, but he’s not really feeling it, doesn’t want to let himself be taken home. He exchanges numbers with Jean-Philippe, though, and just waits for Mingi to be done.

It’s much the same vibe as yesterday, except with more people there to witness it. Instead of just Mingi and San, the whole group of them is singing on the metro, classic hits such as Bieber’s “Baby,” that transcendent masterpiece, and “All I Want for Christmas” even though it’s July. Mingi is back to being drunk-needy, one arm around Yunho’s shoulders, the other around San’s, and San laughs along with everyone, sings along with everyone, and just honestly has a good time. Why should things be weird? He finds himself impatient to get back to the hostel, though, to wash up and get in bed, because now he knows that in the morning— fuck, he shouldn’t get ahead of himself.

Mingi must be feeling some type of way, too, because once they’re in bed, freshly showered and sleepy (after Mingi spent thirty-five minutes locked in the bathroom talking to Hongjoong), he doesn’t immediately wheedle cuddling out of San, just stays a couple feet away, sending San the occasional nervous glance as they compete against each other in parallel games of Mario Kart Tour on their phones. But finally, San can’t take it anymore, and he sighs, tossing his phone down and opening his arms. “Come here,” he grumbles, and Mingi obeys all but instantly as soon as he has permission, snuggling right up to San’s side and nestling in close. “Better?”

“Mhm,” Mingi hums happily. He’s already overheating, the skin of his legs warm against San’s, and San wraps his arms around his shoulders and casually, easily pets his fingers through Mingi’s hair. It’s not that different from how they snuggle back at school, but it feels different — different in a good way, making something like butterflies start in San’s stomach. Mingi practically purrs at the touches, at the affection, and even though they were in the middle of a tour, both of them are asleep in minutes, made dozy by the warmth just like puppies in a pile.

The warmth is nice, but when San starts waking up, it’s searing-hot. Once again, he feels so much better than he usually does first thing, despite the sweat making him already have to pant for air, and this time he knows right away how come; in their sleep, they’d turned over to spoon, Mingi wrapped around him from behind — bullshit, San’s no little spoon, but this is… nice, he decides, if it’s always like this, he could get used to it. Of course Mingi is hard, his hips flexing slowly against the small of San’s back and the curve of his ass, and one of his hands is splayed across San’s stomach, pulling him closer. San takes that hand and moves it down lower, and Mingi’s probably about as barely-awake as he is, so he doesn’t resist, just curls his fingers around his dick very loosely once San has guided his palm to the front of San’s boxers. With Mingi panting against the back of his ear, his big cock rubbing at the too-sensitive spaces at the tops of San’s thighs, or barely nudging between his cheeks, both of them finish just like that, lazy, nice and easy, almost like a dream, Mingi’s cum-moan so soft and shaky, his cock giving a thick throb against San’s body. God— San feels stupid and lusty even for thinking this, but he can’t help but think _damn, Hongjoong is pretty fucking lucky._ A cock like that? To play with and get fucked by? San’s not going to let them get to the point of actual penetration, but it’s certainly enough to fantasize about later. Curious again, he rubs his hips back just to tease, and Mingi gratifies him with a low tremble of a noise, his arm around San’s body hugging him closer.

“Don’t fall back asleep,” San murmurs. “We have plans today.”

Mingi just nuzzles the back of his neck, mumbling nonsense words, and San gives this up as a lost cause, figures why fight it, and just sets an alarm on his phone for thirty minutes from now. But of course they very nearly miss that one, too, and now San is starting to understand why Mingi and Hongjoong were always so late to breakfast and so blushy and handsy first thing; with Mingi’s obvious appetites, anything else would be surprising. And the issue with this kind of wake-up is that it leaves San in kind of a daze the whole rest of the day— he doesn’t have time for his triple-shot espresso, and he’s just cockstruck until after lunch, and even though he and Yunho watch another couple episodes of _Riverdale_ in the evening before dinner, he has no idea what the hell those ridiculous degenerates are even up to, he’s just thinking about Mingi’s thighs the whole time.

What a waste of Paris. Couldn’t Mingi have done this before? Like, when they were someplace less interesting, like Wales? Like, _fuck._ It’s not that San isn’t having fun and exploring — he has a great time at a cat café and at a weird artisanal éclair bakery and going vintage shopping — but some part of him is always a little preoccupied. But he’s not mad about it, honestly. He’s still with his friends, he’s finally getting _some_ action, and tonight at the club, he thinks, _fuck it,_ and dances with Mingi. More platonically than they had the first night, ironically enough, but it’s fun, it feels more normal, wriggling on him ridiculously and making Mingi laugh like a goose and almost hit dozens of Parisians with his flailing arms. They lurch back to the hostel with their elbows linked, and as San drags him up the stairs to their room, Mingi’s head falls down to San’s shoulders and his lips, always so puffy, press to San’s neck for just a moment.

“Down, boy,” San grins, but doesn’t push him away, enjoying the attention as much as Mingi does.

“You smell good,” Mingi mumbles.

 _Yeah, is that why you can’t stop humping me in the mornings?_ It’s so flattering, honestly, that Mingi can’t resist him like that. San unlocks their door and pushes Mingi inside to stop Mingi’s mouth on his neck, because as much as with anyone else, he’d turn them around and press them up against the wall and kiss them senseless, he can’t quite do that to Mingi. But he can do other things instead — just after a good night’s sleep.

For once, when he wakes up, he feels neither the intense heat of Mingi’s body on his own, nor the weight and pressure of Mingi’s hard cock straining against him. At this point, that’s disorienting, so San lifts his bleary head off the pillow and looks around for Mingi, and finds him still by his side, but splayed out on his back with his legs open and one hand loosely on his stomach. San holds his breath to be sneakier and very carefully tugs down the edge of the sheet, and sure enough, Mingi’s cock is standing proud in his boxers, thick and hard and just a little leaky at the head already.

San exhales in ravenous delight. “Mingi,” he murmurs, putting a hand on Mingi’s thigh and rubbing up. “You awake, hmm?”

Mingi shivers, and in his boxers, his cock gives a visible throb, too. “Mm?”

“Mingi,” San purrs, rubbing his hand up higher but avoiding his actual dick for now. “It’s San. Are you still asleep?”

Mingi arches his back and yawns, all his limbs stretching out, and then it’s like he’s a San-seeking missile, turning onto his side and somehow managing to tug San down to him so they’re all squeezed and snuggled together. Of course, that gets his cock stuffed right up against San’s, and San makes a pleased noise and grinds his hips to rub against him. This would be so much better if it was skin on skin, but again, that’s not a boundary he knows he can cross, so he settles for this, Mingi all enveloped in him, San just as wrapped within Mingi’s hold as well, and of course that incredible cock grinding on his own. Mingi is so fucking lazy and so fucking sleepy, his gentle mewling noises making San feel absolutely insane, and San loves how responsive he is, too sleep-helpless to be able to hold back his reactions. Suddenly San realizes that this is their last morning together, this is almost certainly the last time they’ll get to do this, and that’s enough to make him slow his roll, practically to a halt.

Mingi whines, hoarse and needy, and San can’t help a quiet laugh. “Shut up, you’re so demanding,” he says. “Wanna take it slow today? Everybody’s not expecting us until, like, ten.”

He pushes a leg between Mingi’s to give him something more solid to ride on, and Mingi moans, clutching onto him. Still no answer, though, so San squirms down to give him friction, and prompts, “Well?”

“Yeah,” Mingi breathes. “Sa-a-an— please…”

Ain’t that pretty. San tucks his head down to kiss on Mingi’s neck, since that’s what he’s been allowing himself to do, and just out of curiosity, gives Mingi’s soft unpierced earlobe a little nibble.

Mingi’s reaction is immediate and _so_ strong. His hips buck up and his cock pulses and he _whimpers,_ a noise San has never heard from him before but would love to hear again, so he repeats the motion, and Mingi reacts just the same. “Ah— H-Hongjoong does that,” Mingi struggles to say.

“Yeah?” San mumbles, somehow not that weirded out by Mingi bringing Hongjoong up right now. “And you like it?”

“Love it,” Mingi sighs, and who is San to deny Mingi something he loves? He sucks his earlobe into his mouth and thrusts their hips together, and Mingi moans to the point that San suspects that if he weren’t so sleepy, he’d be writhing around right now. But his arms do come up to hug weakly onto San’s shoulders, and this time when San rolls his hips down, he can feel every inch of Mingi’s cock, every tremble in his thighs and stomach from the pleasure, and all with Mingi making those delicate, needy noises right into his ear.

Well, since it’s the last time, what’s the harm? “You’re so big,” San murmurs into the soft skin underneath his ear. “Such a gorgeous cock, Mingi.”

Mingi shudders and squirms, that big dick nicely trapped between them, and San is having trouble picturing _this_ boy with this personality, these reactions, topping anyone, but if he were Hongjoong, he’d never miss the chance to _really_ feel that full, thick length. Mingi must be a really sloppy kisser, and one time at a party that Mingi wasn’t at because he was studying for a final, San kissed all their other friends during a game of spin the bottle, and Hongjoong kisses neat and tidy, gave San a friendly little bite on his lower lip in parting, so to think of Mingi going in tongue-first while Hongjoong holds back, all smirking teeth and nothing else, is— a lot. It’s all a lot. San is glad they’re together and that Mingi is clearly some kind of nympho with no morals, because it makes him feel less weird for finding them collectively hot. But for now, he finds it hard to think about Hongjoong when Mingi is underneath him like this, clearly close despite all of San’s attempts to go slow.

San can’t hold back much longer, either. He pushes a hand up under Mingi’s shirt to feel his bare skin and Mingi is hot and soft here, pliant as he always is, and San can tell he’s either coming or about to, gasping wet, his hips working tight against San’s thigh. So San buries his face in Mingi’s neck the way Mingi keeps doing to him and chases the feeling, rubbing off until he’s done, too, and for the last time, that was pretty damn good. He’s happy with that. No real regrets, really. He curls up on top of Mingi, flexes his fingers and his toes, and gives the base of his neck a smacking, obnoxious kiss. “Thanks, cutie. You’re a lot of fun.”

Mingi is too tired to be able to respond much, but he bats lightly at San’s back as San gets cozy. They don’t have to be anywhere until ten, but they do have to straight-up be _leaving_ at ten, bags packed up again and everything, so they can catch the train to Nice. A six-fucking-hour train, what’s the _point,_ that’s a _whole_ day wasted. But whatever, San gets to just ride along and make no plans, he’s still chilling. Then they’re all meeting up with Hongjoong again, grabbing dinner, probably, and then probably going for a night swim in the Mediterranean. It’ll be great. San and Mingi cuddle in bed for a while longer, then San makes them both get up, and he doesn’t have the same kind of feeling he usually gets when he figures this is the last time he’ll ever hook up with someone; there’s no heaviness, nothing bittersweet. He and Mingi will always be friends, nothing’s gonna change that. They pack up, Mingi complaining the whole time, but San shuts him up by reminding him he gets to see his boo tonight, and then Mingi is so pink and giddy that he can’t even talk, so it works a charm.

One final Parisian brunch, then they all board the train. Mingi’s sleepy with a neck pillow around his shoulders, and he and San are sitting next to each other opposite Seonghwa; San nudges Mingi with his elbow and slyly asks if he’s going to be okay, and Mingi flares red and calls him an asshole, but he’s smiling behind his hands and his sleep mask. San watches him sleep (but _not_ in a creepy way) for about thirty seconds before he gets bored, then goes to finish season 3 of _Riverdale_ with Yunho, which is a bad idea, because Yunho is sitting across from Wooyoung, who keeps glaring threateningly at San. Christ. Maybe sticking his fingers in nearly all the metaphorical pies his friends have to offer isn’t the best idea, but whatever, life is short and San and all his friends are hot. Things could be worse; he could be in the middle of joining a zombie tabletop game cult like Jughead is doing, _and_ his name could be _Jughead,_ so all things considered, life is grand.

Hongjoong meets them at the train station. Mingi pushes Yeosang out of his way and practically flies to him, flinging himself into Hongjoong’s arms as Hongjoong runs to meet him halfway, and they collide so beautifully, lost in their own little world. Mingi even picks him up off the ground and spins him in a circle, Hongjoong holding tightly to Mingi’s broad shoulders, laughing and kissing the side of his head and whispering to him and smiling so brightly, and they kiss for a while, deep and devoted. San suddenly feels horrible and looks away.

It’s not that he thinks Mingi would _lie._ And he’s near-certain that if Mingi felt like he was cheating on Hongjoong, he’d be all broken up about it, guilty and kicked-puppy and tragic, and the only thing Mingi really seemed to feel bad about was embarrassing himself in front of San. But it’s hard to believe they could be in an “open relationship” or whatever when they’re like _this,_ so visibly in love, Hongjoong cupping Mingi’s face in his small hands and rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks as Mingi presses their foreheads together and grips Hongjoong by the waist.

San thought he had it all figured out, but now he’s just even more confused. He needs to talk to Hongjoong; not to snitch on Mingi, he doesn’t want to interfere in their relationship further than he already has, but just to figure out what the hell is going on. For the moment, though, he makes himself scarce, choosing to talk to Jongho instead as they all walk back to the hostel. Jongho gives him a very long and very boring talk about party politics in Bosnia, but it’s still better than watching Mingi and Hongjoong fawn all over each other and feeling like he might have ruined everything for them.

At dinner, Mingi sits in Hongjoong’s lap, and it’s like they were never apart at all, Hongjoong hand-feeding him cherry tomatoes and crostini. Mingi barely looks at San, too, which is honestly a little insulting, as they’ve been metaphorically joined at the hip for the past four days, and literally joined at the hip for the past three mornings. But San tries not to care. He’ll talk to Hongjoong after dinner, and then he’ll have his answer, and while he doesn’t think anything would make Mingi stop being friends with him, this just might make San stop being friends with Mingi, so. He’d like some actual answers, not red-cheeked mumbling, as cute as that had been at the time.

So after dinner, when everybody’s headed back to the hostel to get beach towels and swim trunks and cash for buying cocktails, San watches as Mingi lopes by Yunho’s side to compare arm lengths and wingspans, and knows this is his moment: if he doesn’t talk to Hongjoong now, he never will. He speeds up his pace and catches Hongjoong by his pointy elbow, and Hongjoong turns, surprised at first but then hitting him with the full-blast beaming power of his toothiest smile. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my personal hero,” he hums, tossing an easily affectionate arm around San’s shoulders. “Thank you so much, seriously, for babysitting while I was away.”

“Oh, no worries,” San says. “It was my pleasure.” Now that sounds skeevy, and it’s only made skeevier by the way Hongjoong immediately casts a fond glance Mingi’s way, and San can’t take it, so he just bluntly says, “Are you and Mingi in an open relationship?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong shrugs simply, like this hasn’t been tormenting San for the last 48 hours, then looks askance at him. “Why, you want a piece of the action?”

San, to his horror, starts to go a little bit red. “Um— well—”

“Oh,” Hongjoong says, realizing. His walking pace slows, stumbling for a second. “You _already got_ a piece of the action.”

Fuck, shit, fuck. “I’m sorry,” San starts quickly, “I asked him about you two and he said no labels and he said he didn’t mean to but when he’s just waking up these things just kind of happen, and—”

“Oh, how wonderful, I thought he’d be too chicken to make a move on you but I’m so proud of him,” Hongjoong muses, then abruptly realizes what San said and stops walking completely. “Wait, when he’s waking up?”

San has no idea what the fuck is going on. Did Hongjoong _want_ Mingi to hit on him in his absence? What? He focuses on what he understands for now, leaves the rest of later. “Um, yeah,” he says, lowering his voice. “Like— in the morning, before he’s all the way awake, he… uh, there’s no classy way to say this.”

“Oh, my God, he sleep-humped you, too!” Hongjoong says, _delighted._

“Why are you so enthused about this,” San says, panicked.

“That’s how _we_ got together!” Hongjoong beams. “He’s so cute when he has a crush— he really can’t hide how he feels, and that’s how it expresses itself.”

“Can’t he just double-text and send vague Instagram DMs like everyone else?” San says, by now feeling like he’s having an out-of-body experience. “Wait a minute, can we get back to the part where you thought he’d be too chicken to make a move…?”

“Not to snitch on my sweetie, but he’s had the hots for you for a while,” Hongjoong tells him very matter-of-factly. “Like, he’s in love with me, but he’s crushing on you, get it? So I thought he might _maybe_ hit on you while I was away and of course I gave him full permission to test the waters, make out with you at a club or something without me breathing down his neck and stressing him out, but I had no idea his self-restraint was _that_ bad! Oh, that’s so cute.”

He’s still beaming at Mingi’s back and San’s questions are starting to get answered, but now he has more than ever. “So you knew about this,” San clarifies. “Like— you wanted this.”

“Sure,” Hongjoong says with an easy shrug. San is suddenly very aware of Hongjoong’s hand on his shoulder, affectionate but also maybe… intentful? “You must have been real shocked, though.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” San huffs. “I woke up with all _five_ of his limbs wrapped around me, it was…”

“I know,” Hongjoong sighs dreamily. “But you had fun? Like, you don’t hate him, right?”

“No, God, I thought he might hate me,” San says. “It was— yeah, it was fun. He’s… fun.” He sounds so lame and awkward, but he’s quite honestly never been in a situation like this before in his life, for all the sex and even threesomes he’s had, so this is uncharted territory, unsailed waters. “I’ve just been really… confused. But not at all about whether I liked it or not. It was fun the whole time.”

Hongjoong smiles at him, gently leans their heads together, which is _super_ weird even though Hongjoong has always been touchy, and gives his shoulders a squeeze. “I’m really glad. He’s so sweet, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. And he likes you a _lot.”_

San also looks at Mingi, who has completed his measuring contest with Yunho and is now trying (and failing) to steal Wooyoung’s hat. It’s difficult to imagine that he’s capable of as much nuanced emotion as Hongjoong is attributing to him, but he is sweet. Sweet, and cute, and _hung._ “Really?”

“Of course,” Hongjoong says, all of a sudden so soft. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Okay,” San says with a nervous laugh. “Good, well, I’m glad I didn’t help him cheat on you.”

“Nooo, not at all,” Hongjoong dismisses. But he’s getting that look in his eye that means he’s cooking up some madcap plan, and he lets go of San’s shoulders to clap his hands together, decisively, just once. “Tell you what. I think we need to teach him a lesson.”

“Huh?” San says. “Um— no, I promise I’m not upset or anything, it’s fine—”

“A lesson in self-control,” Hongjoong says thoughtfully. “Will you give us a minute? Like, half an hour. For me to tease the story out of him. And then will you come to our room? I have something I was planning for just the two of us to do, but I think you’d be the perfect addition.”

San kind of hates himself for how quickly his heart, mind, and body all agree that the answer is a big, decisive _yes._ “Um,” he says. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

Hongjoong beams at him again, all his pointy teeth on display. “Good lad,” he says. “See you soon, okay? Thirty minutes. Don’t forget, and don’t be late. Unless you don’t want to, in which case, just text me, I won’t be mad. Cool?”

“Cool,” San says, utterly bemused with absolutely no idea what to expect, and he just stands there and watches as Hongjoong scampers to catch up with Mingi and tug him away from everyone else, hurrying along up to the hostel. They’re followed by whoops and wolf-whistles from the rest of the group, but little does everyone know that Hongjoong is leading Mingi away to chastise him for… San isn’t even totally sure what, since it seems he was cool with Mingi making moves on San in the first place. He supposes he’ll just have to wait and see.

Mingi and Hongjoong vanish into the hostel, and San, back in a single room, goes up alone. What’s he supposed to _do_ for half an hour while he waits? He settles for taking a quick shower — being sure to use his nice, expensive bodywash so he smells even better than he usually does — and scrolling through Snapchat, watching the minutes count down. Is Hongjoong talking to Mingi right now? Mingi must be blushing, trying to hide behind his hands, but Hongjoong likes to tease, he said he’d be teasing anyway, so he won’t accept that, he must be making Mingi tell him the full story. San changes outfits about three times and settles on a black tee and black jeans, playing to his strengths, and figures he may as well grab a couple condoms _just_ in case; he doesn’t know what freaky sex game is about to happen, but it’s likely by this point that it will be a freaky sex game.

Twenty-five minutes pass, then twenty-eight, and the last minute is the longest of San’s life, but as soon as it hits thirty, he’s up and at ‘em, locking his door behind him and then heading down the hall to Mingi and Hongjoong’s room (he checked Seonghwa’s spreadsheet to get the number). He takes a deep breath, then raises his hand to knock, but before his knuckles can even make contact with the wood, the door swings open, and a broadly grinning Hongjoong stands right there, eyes lighting up when he sees San.

“Wow, right on time!” he says. “Come on in!”

“Uh, thanks,” San says, going inside when Hongjoong steps back. “How… are things?”

“Splendid!” Hongjoong chirps. “You want any water? Wine? Absinthe?”

“No, uh, I’m good,” San says. Then he sees Mingi, who is curled up into a tiny ball at the top of the bed with his face, sure enough, buried in his hands. “Jesus Christ. Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Hongjoong says cheerfully. “We’re so glad you’re here!”

It doesn’t look like Mingi’s all that glad, but San stands aside and watches as Hongjoong comes up to the bed and kneels down to pet his hand down Mingi’s arm, coaxing him out of his tightly curled position to get him to lift his head and say hi to San. Mingi does the smallest wave the world has ever seen, then hides in his hands again, and San is kind of worried, but Hongjoong just laughs.

“He’s being a baby,” he explains. “Come in, come in, sit down wherever, make yourself at home.”

San sits cautiously at the foot of the bed, since there’s plenty of room, and looks with concern at Mingi again. “Um, so…”

“Sooooo, Mingi told me all about what happened,” Hongjoong says, his aura radiating smugness, “and I really just can’t believe how ridiculous he is. I know—” He continues over San’s immediate protestations that it’s fine— “I know you didn’t mind it, and even enjoyed yourself, but _still._ Is that how good boys act, hmm?”

Oh, wow, okay. This just went from ‘mildly sexually charged’ to ‘critical levels of horny’ in no time flat, and Mingi makes a high, stressed noise from inside his tense little ball. Hongjoong looks at San with a smile, shrugs, and continues, “So here’s the thing with me and Mingi. Yes, it’s an open relationship, because clearly his appetites are _voracious,_ but so far we haven’t had the chance to let him explore that. But the issue is, we were working our way up to letting him fuck me, since, well, he’s never topped anyone before, and we were planning on trying it pretty early on but I just kept getting distracted, like, _you’ve_ seen his ass and heard the noises he makes, can you blame me?”

He pauses to give San a chance to agree or disagree, but San’s mind is breaking at the revelation that Mingi really is a total bottom. Of course it didn’t make sense to imagine him fucking Hongjoong, big cock aside; of course that’s not the structure of their relationship. Hongjoong, bending over for Mingi, clueless leggy virgin extraordinaire? No way. It all makes sense now. “No, I— I definitely can’t,” San manages.

“But I do want to try, because you know what his dick is like, but since he’s so big and inexperienced, I was worried he’d hurt both of us,” Hongjoong explains very reasonably. “Which is where _this_ comes in.”

Mingi makes an even more impossibly distraught noise and flips over so his face is buried in a pillow, and San is so busy watching him to make sure he’s okay that he doesn’t even notice Hongjoong leaving the bed until he comes back with a rectangular box in his hands. He waits until San is looking at him, then smiles, so innocent and cute, belying the steel glint in his eyes, and opens the lid of the box to show San what’s inside.

“You ever played with one of these before, San?”

And now San understands why Mingi is so stressed out that he’s gone nonverbal, because in the box, in Hongjoong’s slim fingers, is a fucking fleshlight.

Hongjoong takes it out to show San better, the gold plastic case tapering out to soft pink lips at the end, because of course he got one molded into a pussy, because he’s clearly a fucking sadist. San squirms, his cheeks going red to match Mingi’s. “Um— no, I haven’t.”

“Me, neither,” Hongjoong hums. “And of course Mingi hasn’t. But I thought it’d be a great way to teach him to have a little more restraint without risking injury. Can you read what the box says, baby? What model is this, hmm?”

“You already made me do this,” Mingi mumbles, completely muffled by the pillow.

“I know, sweetheart, but so San can hear it, too,” Hongjoong smiles. “We’ll wait.”

San is frozen with arousal and terror, so all he can really do is, in fact, wait, and Mingi squirms and whines and buries his face deeper in the pillow, but finally he lifts his head, glares at the box, and mumbles, “It’s a… stamina training unit.”

“Very good,” Hongjoong says, reaching out to rub Mingi’s back — Mingi immediately drops back down, resuming his previous hiding place. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Mingi doesn’t answer. Hongjoong looks at San instead, who is just trying to keep his jaw from dropping, and tilts his head to the side inquisitively. “Well? Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“Um,” San says. He shifts, unfortunately already starting to thicken in his jeans, and swallows, nodding. “Yeah, I think— I think it’s a great way to, to introduce him to… penetration.”

Hongjoong’s smile is absolute sunshine. “Right? It’s a wonderful compromise! I know he’ll love it. Do you want to get on the bed with him or just watch? I really think one of us is going to have to hold his hips down, but it’s your choice.”

“Oh, um,” San says, hating how much he’s stuttering. “I’ll— yeah, I’ll hold him down.”

“You’re strong, I know,” Hongjoong says, voice tipping into something like a purr, eyes darting down to San’s arms in his t-shirt. “But we’ll see how he does to start, hm? Maybe we’ll be pleasantly surprised. Mingi, baby?”

Mingi, once again, doesn’t answer, and Hongjoong runs a delicate hand up his back to very lightly tug at his hair. “What,” Mingi finally mumbles.

“Don’t give me that tone,” Hongjoong scolds. “Uncurl, you little hedgehog. Let us see you. And you want to see San, don’t you?”

Very, very reluctantly and slowly, Mingi untangles his limbs from around himself and unfolds his long body. San can’t help his wandering eyes and glances down to see, yep, a very distinctive bulge in Mingi’s sweatpants. And then there’s Hongjoong’s dainty palm dragging up Mingi’s thigh, his cajoling smile, and his high, deceptively sweet voice as he says, “What’s that pout for? Don’t you want to fuck this pretty pussy I got just for you?”

“Hong _joong,”_ Mingi groans. San couldn’t agree with him more strongly, but Hongjoong is merciless, just barely running his fingers over the clear line of Mingi’s clothed dick but pulling away before he can give him too much friction. “Hongjoong— please, please just—”

“Get naked,” Hongjoong says lightly. “Is it warm enough in here, baby, do you want me to turn up the heater?”

“It’s fine,” Mingi mumbles. He glances one more time at San, petulant and blushing harder than San has ever seen, and starts tugging his shirt off.

Nothing San has never seen before, not _yet,_ but still, it feels so different with Hongjoong there, with the air hot between the three of them, with the glint of the fleshlight’s case visible out of the corner of San’s eye. Mingi is now tugging his sweatpants down his hips, and San knows before he even reveals much skin that he’s going to be commando, and he can’t help his mouth watering slightly at the thought of finally seeing that cock in all its glory. Sure enough, Mingi’s completely naked under his joggers, and as he pulls them down past his thighs, his glorious cock springs free, not even fully hard yet but already so thick, so long, and Mingi catches San looking and blushes impossibly redder.

“My pretty baby,” Hongjoong croons. “All the way, c’mon, let us enjoy the view.”

And God damn, San really is enjoying the view. There’s just so _much_ of him, warm skin and big cock and toned thighs, and Mingi finishes kicking his sweatpants off and just lies there, quivering, waiting for Hongjoong to continue his _lesson._ He also peers shyly at San, who’s peering not-shyly-at-all at him, and Hongjoong sighs adoringly, his diminutive hand rubbing up Mingi’s thigh again.

“You wanna touch, too?” he asks, his tone all playful, and San realizes with a start that Hongjoong is talking to _him_. “He’s so gorgeous, right? My very favorite toy.”

Mingi makes a whiny noise from the back of his throat, squirming under the attention, the objectification, and God, all of this is so fucking bizarre, but San can’t get enough. And he doesn’t need to be asked twice, not with an invitation like that. Hongjoong goes over to the other side of the room, presumably to get lube, and San has already touched Mingi’s cock but not like this, not with all however-many-inches of it fully on display, begging for any touch, but first, he makes eye contact with Mingi as he scoots closer to him on the bed.

“You okay?” he murmurs. “Sure you’re good with me being here?”

Mingi colors a deeper red. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I— I want you here. You, you can touch me. If you want.”

“Yeah,” San says, and now that he’s gotten the go-ahead from both of them, he closes the distance between his greedy hand and Mingi’s obviously needy cock, circling his fingers around the hot, thick length. Mingi’s sensitive even through multiple layers of fabric, so it’s no wonder that he’s even more sensitive bare, immediately moaning and arching up, his hips flexing to push his cock deeper into San’s grip.

“Nuh-uh,” Hongjoong tuts, coming back. “Don’t let him do that, San. Think of this as his practice round.”

“Fuck, sorry,” San says, feeling a little like he’s going to get a grade at the end of this encounter, and puts his other hand flat on the edge of Mingi’s hipbone, pressing down but not too firmly. Mingi frowns, but doesn’t resist, instead just melting back against the pillows as San resumes his exploratory touches. Mingi’s cock fills out fast in his hand, standing fully hard and wet at the tip in barely another minute, and Hongjoong leans down to hover over him, making Mingi strain his head up for a kiss.

And for once San doesn’t make himself look away; instead, he watches. It’s just as he’d predicted — Mingi goes in all tongue and desperation, but he can see from here that Hongjoong is teasing, lapping occasionally at the tip of Mingi’s tongue but not letting him get much more traction inside his mouth. But the love Hongjoong feels is palpable despite his torment of poor Mingi, and it’s clear Mingi feels it, too, melting even further, his noises softer and more moans than whines into Hongjoong’s lips. “I know you can do this,” Hongjoong is murmuring between kisses. “I just want to make you feel so good, sweet baby. It’s been torture, being without you these past few days. At least you had San to keep you company, hm? I was all alone. Tell you what, if you do a good job with this tonight, maybe you can fuck me tomorrow? Does that sound good?”

“Please,” Mingi moans quietly. “Please just do it, let me— let me try, I think I can do it, I’ll be good.”

“You’re always good,” Hongjoong smiles and gives him one more kiss, far too close-mouthed and cute for this moment, with Mingi’s dick throbbing in San’s palm. “Now prove it.”

He breaks away from the kiss and picks up the fleshlight. San can see that the opening is slicked with lube, and Hongjoong drags his fingertips over it, showing off the softness of the material, the give, how easy it is to slip a finger inside. San is currently feeling very attacked in a bisexual kind of way, but it’s clearly nothing compared to how Mingi is feeling, his cock so hard in San’s grip, his face red, eyes starting to glaze over with pure _want._ “Please,” Mingi repeats hoarsely, but it’s like Hongjoong doesn’t even hear him, still working lube deeper into the toy with his fingers.

“So this is a special design, I picked it just for Mingi,” he hums. “The normal one might be fun, too, sure, but this one is really supposed to build endurance and stamina, because it apparently feels even better than the other models, so. It’ll definitely be a challenge. San, babe, you wanna hold onto his hips right about now?”

“Oh— right,” San says, always a step behind, and very reluctantly lets go of Mingi’s dick. Mingi makes a whimpery noise, which is very gratifying, but his puppy eyes won’t work right now, and San has a task to do and he’d rather die than not see this through. He puts his weight on Mingi’s hip, bracing through the heel of his palm, as Hongjoong brings the toy closer and closer — and fuck, it’s so depraved that they’re both fully dressed and Mingi is completely naked, completely at their mercy, squirming with thrilled anticipation and completely on display — until finally, he grasps the base of Mingi’s dick with his other hand and uses his grip to just rub the head of Mingi’s cock on the soft lips of the toy.

Mingi shudders, and Hongjoong smiles. “If you try to thrust up,” he says, a new note of sternness in his tone, “I’ll stop completely until you can calm down. Understood?”

“Yes,” Mingi pants. “Hongjoong— just, _please,_ I want to feel it—”

“Careful what you wish for!” Hongjoong sing-songs, then angles the toy and pushes it _down,_ enveloping most of Mingi’s dick in one slick motion.

Mingi makes a noise like he’s been shot, and of course his whole body arches up, hips jumping to try and fuck deeper into the fleshlight. True to his word, Hongjoong pulls it back away with an absolutely obscene wet sound, leaving Mingi’s cock naked and dripping with lube and Mingi himself gasping desperately for relief. It’s the craziest, hottest thing San has ever seen in his life, the way Mingi trembles, his eyes shining up at Hongjoong, and the feeling of his muscles shifting under San’s pressing palms as he thrusts up against thin air. “Please,” Mingi whines. “Try again, please, I’ll do better—”

“What do you think, San?” Hongjoong asks evenly, petting his other hand down Mingi’s sensitive inner thighs. “Should I try again?”

San stares at the helpless way Mingi is shivering, at the way his cock is visibly aching for more. “Sure, why not,” he says. “Just go slower so he’s not as caught off-guard.”

“Good point,” Hongjoong smiles, then follows San’s suggestion, once again rubbing Mingi’s dick on the opening first before slowly, almost torturously so, pushing the toy down over Mingi’s length.

It’s not better. Mingi starts shaking something terrible, and San has to press down _hard_ on his hips to keep him from jerking up. Midway through the process, before Hongjoong has even gotten him fully inside, Mingi’s mouth falls open, and it’s clear he’s never felt anything like this before in his life, because the noise he makes isn’t even a moan, isn’t even a whimper, it’s high, helpless keening, thin and desperate and shocked.

“Yeah?” Hongjoong prompts. “Is that good? Tell me what you’re feeling, remember I like hearing what you think.”

“It’s— it’s so good,” Mingi stammers out. “So fucking _tight_ — Hongjoong, what if I cum?”

“Don’t,” Hongjoong advises.

“Hey,” San says, staring at the space where the thick base of Mingi’s cock vanishes into the toy. “For next time, get one of those clear ones.”

Mingi moans as Hongjoong’s eyebrows raise in intrigued delight. “Yeah? Oh, that’s a brilliant idea,” he praises, and San’s not even the one getting sexually tormented here, but that makes even him get a little restless. “So he can really get an eyeful. I know _I’d_ love that. Tell you what, if I do get one for him, we’ll invite you again so you can enjoy the show, too.”

“Thanks,” San says, still busy staring at the press of Mingi’s cock into the fleshlight, currently completely motionless in Hongjoong’s unyielding grip. Mingi has been quietly whining this whole time, but staying admirably still, and when Hongjoong starts to draw the fleshlight back up his length, his legs twitch, but his hips mostly stay down. “Wow, fast learner,” San can’t help but dryly comment.

“No kidding,” Hongjoong grins. “Baby’s first deepthroat? Day _three_ of our relationship.”

San whistles, low and impressed, and Mingi manages to somehow look proud of himself and pleased, even as his eyes get glassier and glassier with need. But any composure he has remaining goes out the window as Hongjoong rewards him with actual motion, actual friction, starting to fuck the toy on his cock, and this one is partly San’s fault for not pushing down hard enough, but either way, Mingi’s body twists with the effort as his hips jut upwards, and Hongjoong outright hisses in disapproval and yanks the fleshlight off of him.

“I’ll cry,” Mingi whines. “Hongjoong— Hongjoong, I missed you so bad, been wanting you for so long, why are you being so me-e-ean—”

Hongjoong sighs and looks at San, a slightly gaping pocket pussy held casually in his hand. “Can you believe this shit? He thinks this is gonna work on me!”

Mingi sniffles dramatically and artificially, and San just shrugs ‘no comment,’ his thumb stroking along Mingi’s hipbone. Mingi quivers just a little like he’s being tickled, but when San looks at his face, Mingi is watching him instead, grateful and so desperate, always desperate for more.

“…And he’s right,” Hongjoong relents and puts the toy back on him. God, that noise is never going to stop ringing in San’s ears, Hongjoong must have poured half a bottle of lube in there, and when he starts twisting the fleshlight left and right as he fucks it up and down on Mingi’s dick, San really has to _shove_ Mingi’s hips down, not wanting Hongjoong to stop completely again — he doesn’t think Mingi would survive that.

But it seems like Mingi likes being shoved around a little, because that only encourages him, his thighs clenching and his moans gasping higher. Again, not a conclusion San would have drawn on his own, but not altogether surprising, now that he knows about it. Experimentally, he digs his fingernails into Mingi’s hips — he’s sure Hongjoong will pull some shit like that, once he’s the actual one taking Mingi’s cock — and Mingi loves that, too, his beautiful neck exposed as his head falls back and his spine arches.

“You sure know how to play him like a fiddle, don’t you,” Hongjoong comments with a smile, as though he’s not currently squeezing and teasing Mingi’s cock with one of the most powerful pleasure devices the world has ever seen. “Was he easy for you? Was he good?”

“Real easy,” San confirms. “Showed me just how he liked it, where he was sensitive.”

“Oh?” Hongjoong says, head tilted curiously to the side again, so casual and breezy and light, still wrenching pleasure out of Mingi without a second thought. “And where’s that?”

“His ears,” San starts, and Hongjoong leans down to bite on Mingi’s earlobe, far less kindly than San had done just that very morning. San very nearly feels _drunk,_ if not on power then certainly on the sights and sounds of Mingi, on the way Hongjoong is talking to them both, on _everything_ about this. “His thighs, I guess. And I didn’t get the chance to play with his nipples, but—”

“Well, what are you waiting for, silly?” Hongjoong encourages from somewhere in Mingi’s neck. “His body is your wonderland.”

San, as with touching Mingi’s cock, doesn’t need to be asked twice, and he pushes one hand against Mingi’s hip while the other drags up his chest. Mingi — his head turned to press into Hongjoong’s hair — moans, soft and a little shy, visibly on some other plane of consciousness, and San takes that as desire enough, rubbing the pad of his thumb over one of Mingi’s surprisingly pink nipples. They pebble under his touch, responsive and sensitive like the rest of him, and Mingi was already squirming but now he tries to squirm more and San impulsively pinches his nipple by way of punishment.

“No fair,” Mingi whines, and when his hips buck again, the way San is holding him isn’t enough to keep him down. “Wait— fuck, no, I’m _sorry_ —”

But it’s too late, and Hongjoong doesn’t miss a thing, no time wasted as he pulls the fleshlight back. Mingi’s cock strains to try and follow it; San’s mouth involuntarily waters. “This might be easier if we both,” San begins, then doesn’t know how to explain it, dazzled as he watches a pearlescent blurt of lube sliding down Mingi’s cock, and Hongjoong smiles, sharp and sweet from next to Mingi’s neck.

“What?” he prompts. “Don’t be shy, San. Look what a good time Mingi’s having.”

Actually, Mingi looks absolutely miserable, and San has never seen him blush so hard. That is, until San gets fully on the bed and takes up a pose even more intimate than Hongjoong’s, curled up along Mingi’s side, so he can rest his head on Mingi’s shoulder but hug Mingi’s thigh with his strong legs, squeezing down with his upper leg to keep Mingi locked in place — at that, Mingi becomes more blush than skin, and San thrills at the sight.

“I always knew you were a genius,” Hongjoong sighs blissfully and replicates San’s motions, his smaller legs winding around Mingi’s remaining thigh. His feet barely make it past Mingi’s knee because of the way he’s all curled up, and San watches as Hongjoong rubs the slick opening of the fleshlight over the head of Mingi’s cock. “Is that nice, baby? You can’t even move like this. You comfy?”

It wasn’t like Mingi was capable of doing a lot of talking before, but this new position, so thoroughly bookended and immobilized by San and Hongjoong on either side, has stolen his voice completely. All he can do is nod and make the tiniest, shakiest of sounds from deep in his throat, and when Hongjoong slides the fleshlight down over him again and San takes the liberty of kissing Mingi’s hot neck, his moan almost sounds like he’s going to cry.

This position is _choice._ San really is a genius. It leaves his hand free to rub over Mingi’s chest and tease at his nipples again, and Hongjoong is presumably doing evil shit with Mingi’s neck and ear, and with the way San is wrapped around him — well, he’s been hard this whole time, too, so what’s the harm? He rocks his hips forward, rubbing against the side of Mingi’s hip — ain’t that some deja vu — and Mingi gasps. “Hongjoong,” he stage-whispers. “San is hard, too.”

“Oh, is he?” Hongjoong’s voice murmurs; San practically feels it through Mingi’s neck. “That’s _very_ interesting.”

“You little snitch,” San says, laughing self-consciously. But Mingi makes it hard to stay mad at him, what with the sweet way he pants and whines, completely at San and Hongjoong’s mercy. So San takes pity and adds, “What are you gonna do about it, anyway?”

He feels Mingi’s hip muscles flexing under his legs, desperate to fuck harderfastermore into the toy, which Hongjoong is still working over his cock at what must be an agonizingly slow pace. “Please,” Mingi starts gasping, and at first San thinks it’s because of the fleshlight, which makes sense, but then, “please, can I please suck you— suck you off? Please? Hongjoong, can I?”

“You can do everything you want to do, princess,” Hongjoong says with a loving, wet kiss to Mingi’s cheek.

Well, fuck. It’s been on San’s mind since Hongjoong mentioned that Mingi learned how to deepthroat in three days — but maybe since before then, too, just looking at Mingi’s outrageous pouty mouth, always hanging slack and cock-ready whenever he’s zoning out and staring off into space. Mingi has always been — not _off-limits,_ per se, but San has never let himself really look at him, really _want_ him, and now that he’s started, it’s difficult to stop. He shivers, delighted by the thought and how badly Mingi wants it, and rolls his hips against him another time, not hard enough to get off, but just enough to give himself some badly-needed friction. Mingi and Hongjoong are back to kissing, and though Mingi’s body is quivering with how hard he’s working to restrain himself, he really is keeping his hips obediently down. Fast learner. So San complicates the issue, goes back to teasing at his chest, squeezing his pecs like he would if he were feeling up a girl, and just for the fun of it, he shimmies down his body just enough to bring his mouth to chest level so he can kiss that rock-hard little rosebud, and Mingi’s muffled shriek into Hongjoong’s lips is reward enough in itself.

This gives San an excellent vantage point to watch Mingi’s dick as Hongjoong pleasures him. He’s so thick that he’s stretching the opening of the silicone pussy out, so long that he can barely stuff all the way inside, and San can’t help but think — or maybe hope — that he’d love a go with Hongjoong’s toy when he’s done, and he doesn’t mean the fleshlight. But for now, this is all about Mingi, and while San could never in a million years have guessed that _this_ would be the conclusion to spending four days “babysitting” Mingi, as Hongjoong had called it, in retrospect, it makes perfect sense, just like everything else. So he kisses and suckles at his chest, his fingernails going scritch-scritch down Mingi’s belly, and Hongjoong must bite Mingi’s earlobe right then, too, because San recognizes that noise by now. The poor thing is so overwhelmed that San aches with sympathy; his muscles are tensing and relaxing every couple of seconds, a frantic, needy cycle, and he must be so wet, even beyond the lube, absolutely dripping precum, because the fleshlight is only getting slicker — it’s unbelievable. “Are you going to last this long when Hongjoong lets you fuck him, too?” San murmurs into Mingi’s pec, and Mingi can’t answer, but Hongjoong laughs, fond and warm, “No way.”

“I’ll— I’ll— I’m gonna— I’m gonna try,” Mingi defends, hiccupping, his legs attempting uselessly to kick. “Aren’t I doing good? Now? I’m doing good?”

Hongjoong and San both coo that he is, more or less in unison but with Hongjoong doing most of the cooing and San mainly just vibing along. The praise makes Mingi shiver so hard that Hongjoong threatens him with stopping but Mingi, sweeter than anything, goes so still and melty that Hongjoong has no reason to torment him more than he already is. San moves up, resting his head on Mingi’s shoulder again, and Hongjoong smiles at him across Mingi’s throat and slides to sink his teeth into the curve of Mingi’s collarbone — practically with an audible crunch, Jesus — and San eyes the immediate flutter of Mingi’s eyelashes, shimmies up to get closer to him, and Mingi needs _something,_ he’s seeking something, so San moves in closer and— and they’re kissing, just like that.

It’s not as weird as San had expected it might be. Mingi’s lips are hot like he has a fever, and he’s gasping for air and begging without words and acting like he’s trying to swallow San whole. But he’s sweet, too, melts again after a second and just lets San suckle at his lower lip, then intersperse in smaller, drier kisses. All the while, San can practically feel Hongjoong’s eyes on them, his sparkly, amused gaze, and there’s something about being watched by him that makes San feel about a fraction of what he imagines Mingi must be feeling right now. Hongjoong is a lot to handle. San kisses Mingi deeper, the hand that had been on his chest moving to hold onto his jaw, his legs tightening around Mingi’s thigh to ensure he can’t move an inch. Has he always wanted to kiss Mingi? Is that what this is? Or is he just enjoying the moment, enjoying having him completely at his and Hongjoong’s not-particularly-merciful mercy? The two ideas aren’t mutually exclusive, San figures, and lets Mingi suck at his tongue, sloppy and wet like the rest of him. San is very nearly proud of how well Mingi is handling being kissed while he’s being practically milked for dear life, but of course, as soon as he’s had that thought, Hongjoong starts fucking the fleshlight on Mingi fast and unyielding, and Mingi chokes on his own spit and needs to wrench his face away from San’s to gulp for air.

“Wow,” San says, staring down at Hongjoong’s hand. That’s some serious wrist action; it’s seriously impressive, he’ll have to get a tutorial from him later on how to do that without getting a cramp.

“He’s suffered enough,” Hongjoong explains with a shockingly tender little smile, but there’s still an edge of meanness in his eyes. Yeah, somehow San doubts that Mingi is suffering any less, if his noises are anything to go by, but at least he’s getting some relief. “What do you think, sweet baby? Where do you want to cum? Inside, or just with my hand, or what?”

Sadist, Jesus. Mingi is in no condition to make a decision. His state has worsened drastically in the fifteen seconds San has left him unobserved, his eyes so glossy, his lips so wet, his whole long body quivering like a plucked string. But Hongjoong is waiting patiently for him to answer, and Mingi evidently can’t let him down, because his tongue moves audibly in his mouth and he manages, “You— you decide. If I— earned— or if you’d let me— if, tomorrow, if you would let me cum in— in—”

“Inside me?” Hongjoong provides, coy, and Mingi can only moan in response. “Aww. I know you love it when I do that to you, hm? Bet you’re hoping I’ll beg for it the same way you do.”

Oh, God, that’s a _little_ bit too much information, and now San is the one blushing, but by this point he’s so hard, too, that it just makes his dick even happier, and while the two of them are distracted, he sees no shame in grinding off on Mingi’s hip as he waits for a decision to be made. Mingi tries to hide in San’s hair, which is predictably cute, but Hongjoong won’t stand for that, which is predictably hot, and he does something with the fleshlight that makes Mingi yelp. “Come on,” San mumbles into Mingi’s shoulder, “come on, tell him what you want, then you can suck me, b-baby, don’t you want to?”

“Inside,” Mingi gasps immediately. “Inside. Please, Hongjoong, _please.”_

“Your wish is my command,” Hongjoong hums. He purses his lips in a little blown kiss Mingi’s way, having sat back to get more leverage for the way he’s working the fleshlight, and _winks_ at San, and then — outrageous — he tilts his head back, bites his lip, looks down at Mingi through his eyelashes and makes a flustered, breathy noise. At first, San is confused as to why Hongjoong is faking whatever it is that he’s faking, but then it hits him harder than a punch to the gut: Hongjoong is acting like he’s the one being fucked. He’s putting on a show for Mingi, giving him a little visual preview to go with the sensory pyrotechnics, and it’s beyond pornographic, somehow the craziest thing San has seen all night despite everything else, and it works like magic. Mingi’s final noise is a raw sob that comes from deep within him, and not even the combined weight of San and Hongjoong on his thighs is enough to keep him down as he arches up, drawing tight, and cums, so hard and much that it immediately starts spilling out of the bottom of the toy as Hongjoong keeps stroking it up and down.

That’s gotta be too much. It looks like it’s way too much for Mingi, but Hongjoong doesn’t let up, and San trusts him to know Mingi’s limits. But shortly, before Mingi can truly start crying or whatever, Hongjoong’s hand finally slows to a halt, and he draws the fleshlight off for good, though he lingers towards the head. “Hongjoong,” Mingi murmurs, sounding airy and small, and Hongjoong unceremoniously flings the toy aside and goes to him, and they kiss so deep, so entangled together even with San attached to Mingi’s other hip. “Is that— is that how it’s going to feel?”

“I’m going to make it feel even better for you,” Hongjoong promises, between kisses.

For the first time since he’d been let in this evening, San feels mildly like he’s intruding, and he doesn’t really mind — he gets it, he’s just here for some added fun and flavor, he wasn’t expecting to be anything more than a really exciting third wheel. So he starts to remove himself from the narrative, unclamping his legs from around Mingi’s and beginning to slide away to go ignominiously jerk off in his own room or something, no hard feelings about the thwarted blowie, but a small, clawlike hand digs into his forearm: Hongjoong has re-entered the chat.

“Wait,” Hongjoong says, his Mingi-kissed lips pulling into a pout. “Mingi’s not done with you, and neither am I. Do you still want to stay?”

 _Neither am I?_ What the hell? “Uh, fuck yeah,” San says, and Hongjoong glitters a smile his way and lets go of Mingi. Even though Mingi had just been beyond incoherent just moments before, somehow it seems like the only thing keeping him at bay had been the presence of Hongjoong, because now that he’s been unleashed, he _pounces,_ quickly pushing San back against the bed and clambering down to be at an eye level with his crotch. San’s jeans have gotten uncomfortably tight, but Mingi gets them popped open like a pro and San can’t help a shuddered exhale of relief as Mingi pulls his dick out free.

“Nice,” Hongjoong comments, curled up catlike and smug a couple of feet away. San glances at him and sees that Hongjoong was referring to his dick, and blushes, torn between bashfulness and confidence. “Go ahead, baby, show San how much you appreciate his help.”

Mingi doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s like he’s transfixed, in a trance, that’s how single-minded he is about running his wide tongue up San’s length and then sucking him down into his cavernous mouth. Sloppy — of course he’d be this sloppy, he’s inexperienced but eager enough to make up for it, but Hongjoong has trained him well; there are no teeth in the danger zone, and Mingi is visibly reminding himself to breathe as he pushes San’s cock deeper into his throat. And, and this almost comes as a footnote compared to the rest of this overwhelming evening, but it feels _amazing_ and San groans and drops a hand down into Mingi’s hair. Wait— is that okay? Mingi’s on loan, after all. San looks over to Hongjoong again and finds him still watching smirkily, and at San’s questioning eyebrow raise, Hongjoong nods as if to say, _carte blanche._

Well, San still treats his borrowed things with care, and he doesn’t want to outright fuck Mingi’s mouth, anyway, not after all he’s already subjected Mingi to tonight. But he’ll twirl his fingers in Mingi’s hair and guide him to suck more on the head because it’s too much when he’s got the whole thing in his mouth, he’ll grab at him with both hands, in fact, press his fingers into the divot at the back of his skull, he’ll close his eyes and turn his head away when the objective reality of being watched by Hongjoong grows to be overwhelming. Center of attention — isn’t that what he is, now? Hongjoong isn’t even touching him, but he may as well be, his eyes are heavy on San’s body, and Mingi is _amazing_ with his mouth, a natural talent, and it’s been so long since San has been with anyone — beyond the early-morning Mingi humping, unfortunately — that this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.

Somehow, impossibly, Mingi can _tell._ Jesus, he’s a cocksucking savant. He slows his roll, just licks San like a lollipop instead, and San is grateful for the chance to breathe, chest heaving and eyes opening back up again to blink at the ceiling. Mingi is practically purring, still doing licks and kisses along San’s dick, but just as San is starting to feel less unhinged, Hongjoong appears out of nowhere and slides his tiny little Murder Barbie hand over San’s chest. “Thanks for all your help tonight,” he murmurs, conspiratorial, low. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Oh God, San thinks wildly. Mingi fits the head of his dick back into his mouth and swallows wetly around him, perfect suction, and San’s body buzzes with pleasure. Hongjoong, meanwhile, is just _snuggling_ him, giggling just a little as San’s hair tickles his nose, whispering, “I remember that you’re a great kisser. Mingi’s lucky to have such a good friend,” and Mingi angles his head to suck San’s cock down his throat and San is spinning out, he’s spiralling, he’s transcending, which is quite a lot of words for quite a simple action, namely jolting into orgasm all of a sudden, filling Mingi’s mouth before he can have the decency to warn him. Predictably, Mingi doesn’t mind, moaning enthusiastically and swallowing every drop, of course. Then he pulls off, leaving San wet and panting, and rests his cheek on San’s thigh and smiling up at him, all dopey and adorable and shy, while San tries and fails to breathe.

“Was that okay?” Mingi asks, his voice the deepest thing in the world, his eyes more Bambi than San has ever seen them, and San chokes out a hysterical laugh.

“Yeah, Mingi, that was— that was so fucking good,” he says, petting his fingers through Mingi’s hair more clumsily. “Um— thanks.” _Thanks?_ Cringe. But he doesn’t have time to cringe about it for too long, because Mingi moves on fast, his Bambi eyes growing uncanny-valley intense as he hops over to the next body in the bed.

“Hongjoong’s turn!” Mingi declares. All Hongjoong does is laugh and lie back, separating from San’s side, to offer himself up to Mingi for the taking. “San, wanna—” But he immediately clams up again like something’s wrong, his face and ears a burning red, and though Hongjoong frowns, he doesn’t act to coax a confession out of him, and he and San both just wait for Mingi to get up the guts to finish his thought.

It takes a minute. Mingi gets there eventually, flashing a nervous and embarrassed look San’s way. “Sorry,” he says hesitantly. “I just— ’s dumb. I was gonna ask if San wanted to— to join me. But.”

“Oh, sure,” Hongjoong shrugs totally nonchalantly, to San’s lightning-bolt shock. “What do you think?” This last to San, similarly casual and with a breezy smile, and— well, shit, why the hell not?

“Okay,” San says. This is all surreal enough. In fact, he won’t be surprised if after he and Mingi finish Hongjoong up, he jolts awake in bed, four days ago, before this all began. But while he’s still dreaming, he may as well dream to the fullest, so he moves down to flank Mingi, and Hongjoong spreads his legs wider to accommodate them both. Yeah, this is a pretty fitting conclusion for this insanity, San can’t help but think as he watches Mingi reverently, with his hands almost shaking, pull Hongjoong’s flushed cock out of his linen joggers. How is Hongjoong so calm? How has he stayed so calm this whole time? Does spending all that time with Mingi really make you immune? San kind of wants to make him lose it, but he does wonder what it would take. So when Mingi leans in on one side, going in tongue-first, San does the same on the other, and they end up meeting at the top in a messy three-way kiss, and above them, Hongjoong inhales sharply.

“Friendship is a beautiful thing,” Hongjoong says, and San can’t hold back a grin; it’s so funny that Hongjoong is choosing these moments to politely, backhandedly assert his dominance, to remind San of what he’d said earlier — _like, he’s in love with me, but he’s crushing on you, get it?_ San has no intention of pushing his boundaries and Hongjoong’s territoriality is completely needless, which makes it all the funnier. But the goal is to make Hongjoong lose it, to make that cocky veneer at the very least crack. Surely it’s been done before; surely he’s not this confident with Mingi all the time? San realizes he should be thinking a lot less and sucking cock a lot more, so he rejoins Mingi in his efforts, letting Mingi swallow Hongjoong down all the way with practiced ease while San, crowded in towards the base, presses wet kisses anywhere he can.

San’s a giver. What can he say? He likes making people feel good. Some folks want efficience, some want flair, but with Mingi slurping ravenously in his ear, San is guessing that Hongjoong is going to want a show. He bides his time, and when Mingi next comes up for air, San swoops in to tongue-kiss Mingi across the crown of Hongjoong’s cock, all but batting it between their mouths, then guide the both of them down so their lips skim along either side. Hongjoong’s resulting noise is breathier, which is good progress, but San stubbornly wants more, is determined to get it, so he fumbles around until he can find one of Mingi’s hands and move it to circle his long fingers around Hongjoong’s cock, interlaced with San’s.

Now, San’s hands might not be as small as Hongjoong’s are, but they’re definitely not big in comparison with Mingi’s, so it makes for a pretty picture, the two of them linked and laced and jerking Hongjoong off together. They get into a rhythm, taking turns sucking on the head and switching off every half-minute or so, and one time they get thrown off and collide, but that just makes them laugh — it’s crazy how easy this is, how natural it feels, it’s the least weird thing in the world and San cannot fucking believe that he was ever nervous going into this — and then they’re kissing again, Mingi still warm and pliant and panting into San’s lips while they stroke Hongjoong together.

Is Hongjoong losing it yet? San cracks an eye open to check. His cheeks are pink and his elfin teeth are digging into his lower lip, and he’s definitely not unaffected by the sight. It’s not _quite_ as far as San wanted to go, and he wants to push him further, he knows he can take him there. But how? What does Hongjoong like? San racks his brain, leans back to give Mingi space to lave all over Hongjoong’s dick like he’s polishing it, thinks in the meantime. Hongjoong likes… teasing Mingi, bothering Mingi, telling Mingi what to do. Wearing clothes utterly inappropriate for the weather, singing along to music just a little off-key but all the more charming for it. More pertinently, he likes it when Mingi gets objectified but treasured at the same time, and he likes teaming up with San against him. Hmm. There’s something there that San can use, for sure.

Conveniently, as soon as he’s finished having this thought, Mingi accidentally takes Hongjoong just a little too deep and has to pull off quick, sputtering, and San carpes the diem. “Mingi,” he chides, his non-cock hand moving to tug at Mingi’s hair and keep him from choking Hongjoong’s dick right back down, nothing if not persistent. “Go slow. You’re no good to Hongjoong if you hurt yourself, you know.”

“I… know,” Mingi says, a little confused, but a tiny flicker of San’s eyes up to check on Hongjoong, who has gone a different kind of rigid, helps him get the picture. “I mean, I know. Sorry. Can I try again?”

“Try again,” San nods, his tight grip in Mingi’s hair turning into a guiding push on his head, and he looks up at Hongjoong and figures Hongjoong deserves a taste of his own medicine, and winks.

Hongjoong shudders, his hips rolling elegantly up into Mingi’s starving mouth. “Choi San,” he mutters. “Good Lord.”

San grins, feeling his dimples fully popping in his cheeks, but turns his attention back to Mingi. “Are you remembering to breathe? Don’t push to take more than you can, stay focused,” he says, petting through Mingi’s hair again. “Wow, you really are a quick learner.”

“I know how to do this,” Mingi protests, cheeks red, pulling off Hongjoong with a pop to pout at San. “He’s the one who taught me!”

“So prove it,” San shrugs coolly. “Don’t you want to make Hongjoong feel good?”

“Yes,” Mingi huffs, so defensive. “ _Obviously.”_

“Then what’s holding you back?” San says, eyebrows raised, and thankfully, Mingi doesn’t say _you are, you asshole,_ just glares at him and then sucks Hongjoong down like it’s his only purpose in life, and San looks up to check on their captive audience and finds out that he _did_ it, he _broke_ him, Hongjoong has a hand over his mouth and his chest is moving unsteadily with his breathing. Of course Hongjoong likes it chatty in the bedroom. San hides a smile and leans down to watch Mingi from up close, saying, “That’s good, just like that, keep your lips tight, make it good for him,” and Hongjoong sighs indulgently as Mingi sinks down to deepthroat him, more determined than ever to do his best.

San gives Mingi some space, content to watch for now, but as Mingi continues and Hongjoong’s breath quickens, San knows things are starting to wrap up. Now, he knows for a fact that Mingi’s on the swim team, because Mingi used to tearily beg San to come to swim meets to fill up the stands, so Mingi has a proven lung capacity far greater than the average fellater’s. That’s why, as Hongjoong’s hushed moans reach a fever pitch, San’s fingers curl around the back of Mingi’s head and push him down, as far down as he can go, and he doesn’t let him up for an instant — he knows Mingi can take it. Hongjoong struggles underneath him, but Mingi doesn’t struggle at all, San can hear his throat working desperately, and in a matter of seconds Hongjoong’s eyes are squeezing closed and a smile is spreading across his face as he finishes strong. That’s San’s cue to take his hand off, he doesn’t want to _actually_ push Mingi past his limits, but Mingi stays speared for a breathtaking few seconds longer, working Hongjoong through, until he finally pulls off and gasps for air.

All three of them lie there, breathing and mildly shaking, and San stares at a spot on the ceiling shaped like Cuba and thinks, _am I in love with Mingi and Hongjoong?_ But then he realizes it’s just the oxytocin, and he is definitely in love with Wooyoung. Not much better of a position to be in; it’s actually far worse. But at least it’s a starting point. Mingi is making bleary noises next to him, and Hongjoong reaches down and uses inhuman strength to haul him all the way up and wrap around him, keeping him warm since he’s still naked. “San,” Hongjoong says, and San snaps out of it to find them bundled and wriggling under the covers as Hongjoong worms out of his clothing, despite Mingi clinging to every inch of him — triple-jointed freak. “Wanna spend the night?”

San hesitates. What does Hongjoong mean, spend the night? They both know what Mingi is like in the mornings. How would San feel about this being a recurring thing? Hongjoong had insisted on calling San Mingi’s friend — sure, San is on the same page with that — but had promised to invite him back over in the future, were a clear fleshlight to be acquired. Does San want this to happen again? He feels like spending the night means they’ll fool around some more before bed, which theoretically sounds great, but then they’d all roll up to breakfast together and have to field questions from everyone in the whole entire world, and Wooyoung would glare even more than he already does, and—

San has hesitated for too long. Mingi is sleepy, but Hongjoong is always alert, insightful like he can read San’s mind. “Let me try again,” Hongjoong says, smiling. “Where do you want to be right now, San?”

“I’m working on figuring that out,” San admits. “But I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong concedes, wrapping his now-bare arms tightly around Mingi’s shoulders and forcibly burrowing him under the sheets. “Thanks for the good time.”

“You, too,” San says, and they smile at each other quite genuinely. San can tell that Mingi is already asleep. What a great night, if an extremely strange one. Hongjoong kisses the top of Mingi’s head and tucks his chin over him, fluttering his tiny fingers bye-bye at San, and San makes sure he has his phone and room key. In for a penny, in for a pound, he texts Wooyoung on a whim: _we need to talk._

Instantaneously, like he was waiting for it, Wooyoung replies: _yeah, we do_

San rolls his eyes and shrugs at Hongjoong when Hongjoong, still watching, raises an avian eyebrow. Oh, San is so not ready to tell anyone other than Wooyoung about how he’s feeling yet, so he just smiles at him again and heads for the door, feeling his phone buzz in his palm with another follow-up text from Wooyoung, doubtless demanding for San to explain himself this instant. It’s fine. It’s probably fine. Right? They’ll be fine. Either way, San has had a good night, and he doesn’t know if anything could kill this buzz. One last glance back at Hongjoong and Mingi, all bundled up in their own odd little world, and he’s ready to slip out the door — but Hongjoong’s voice follows: “Come back and see us any time.”

San grins, letting the door close behind him. He texts Wooyoung back that he’s on his way, not worried at all about that whole thing anymore, because now if _that_ falls through, he’s got one hell of a backup plan.

**Author's Note:**

> boy oh boy thank u for reading !!!!! i couldn't have finished this fic were it not for the encouragement of ao3 user bigyikesenergy/whiskybusiness, who is in fact a genius. thanks also to maddie roux and ellie for early and continued encouragement!!!!
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/paratazxis) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/paratazxis) !! please don't think poorly of me for this nskjdbfksjd again it came to me in a dream i had no choice but to write it !!!! anyway leave a comment lmk what u thot thanks for reading uwu :+)


End file.
